Book 1: The Forbidden Corridor
by WizzardWeatherwax
Summary: Sequel to 'Self-Study'. Harry finally arrived in Hogwarts. Equipped with the knowledge of fantasy books and fairy tales and eager to learn everything there was to know about magic, he began his formal education. However, something was amiss. A powerful, magical object was hidden inside the school and had attracted the attention of a dangerous Dark wizard.
1. 1st September

" _Hats defined the head. They defined who you were." – Terry Pratchett, Witches Abroad_

Harry was finally sitting on the Hogwarts had come early enough to avoid the rush and had secured himself a compartment on the far end of the platform. He knew he had to interact with someone sooner or later. However, after his experiences in Diagon Alley he couldn't help but feel anxious. Would his classmates treat him differently? Would he be once again an outsider? Harry knew he was weird and he didn't have much experience in interacting with people his age since Dudley and his gang had scared away the few children who had tried to befriend him in primary school. And since Binky was getting to Hogwarts by herself Harry was on his own. He was just reading 'Hogwarts, A History' when he heard the compartment door open. Harry looked up and saw three older girls looking inside.

"Hey, are these seats taken?", asked a tall black girl.

"No, they are not", replied Harry and returned to his book.

 _Don't panic._

* * *

Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet and Danielle Mcdonald showed a visible reaction when Harry introduced himself. However, they weren't as rude as the people in Diagon Alley. After a bit of awkward small talk and a few hesitant questions on their part, the girls began to share their knowledge on how to survive Hogwarts with him. Harry had no idea if they were teasing him or if they were serious. They described the teachers and the classes and he also received an in-depth explanation of Quidditch. Lee Jordan and the twins George and Fred Weasley joined them an hour later. Lee had to leave immediately since Danielle didn't want his tarantula anywhere near her but the Weasley Twins stayed a little while longer. These two knew the castle like the back of their hands and told Harry about two lesser-known shortcuts to make sure he will never show up late for Potions. They considered Gryffindor to be the best House in Hogwarts and showed a certain dislike of Slytherin. Hagrid had felt similar about the Houses. However, Harry was determined to stay open-minded.

* * *

It was a sight to behold. Harry was standing on the edge of a great lake, staring in amazement at the dimly lit, black mass of walls and towers on the other side. He couldn't wait to explore every nook and cranny of the vast castle. A fleet of small boats carried the new students across the lake and – just when Harry thought things couldn't get any better – through a hidden entrance in the cliff face, leading to an underground harbour. It was amazing. Harry was able to feel the castle's magic. It felt ancient. Safe and welcoming. It felt...alive. Harry was sure of it. The castle was sentient.

* * *

Harry didn't really pay attention to Professor McGonagall's speech – something about being segregated into four houses and putting the students against each other in a year long fight. He was still overwhelmed by the complexity of this place. It was even haunted. After the professor had left a few students began to exchange theories on how they were going to be sorted. The Weasley Twins had tried to make him believe that he had to fight a troll to be sorted but Angelina, Alicia and Danielle had shut them up and admonished them for scaring the little firstie. Harry had taken offence at that.

* * *

Ignoring the whispers and stares, Harry stepped forward and sat down on the stool. Fortunately, the Sorting Hat obscured his view of the students in front of him.

" _You are welcome",_ a voice whispered inside his head, startling Harry.

 _Sorting Hat?_

" _At your service, Mr Potter."_

 _It's nice to meet you. Call me Harry. Do you...have a name?_

" _I'm a hat, Harry. I've never really bothered with names but you can call me...Hat."_

 _Alright...so what's going to happen now?_

" _I'm going to look into your head and then I choose the house you belong most to."_

 _Do you see everything?_

Harry didn't want his secrets to be exposed.

" _Don't worry, Harry. My lips are sealed",_ reassured Hat.

 _Alright._

" _Let's get down to business then!",_ said Hat eagerly.

 _Wait, one last question. The castle? It's alive, isn't it?_

" _Hmm...what do understand under being alive?"_

 _I don't know. It's hard to tell. I mean...in biology, there are traits which are shared by all life but with magic involved..who knows? Does it matter though? If something thinks, learns and remembers, and feels, is it really important that it isn't made of cells or can't reproduce?_

" _Interesting argument, Harry. It seems that you answered your own question",_ chuckled Hat. _"It's quite rare that someone your age has such control of their magic and can actually feel magic. But now be quiet. I have to think."_

Silence.

" _Hmm...difficult, very difficult. No stranger of hard work. Quite daring too. Curiosity and creativity. A nice sense of humour. And your own set of rules. Even if it's not your fault, it's your responsibility. Good, very good...but where shall I put you?"_

Silence.

" _No preferences?"_

 _No, that's your job._

" _Most students prefer one house over the other three."_

 _I'm not most students._

" _I know."_

Harry had an idea.

 _Alright, let's look at this from a different angle. Which house would profit the most from my presence?_

Hat laughed, _"How selfless, Harry. However, that's not how it goes. I'll sort you based on who you are and what you need."_

" _Hmm...you don't like your fame, do you?", added Hat after a while._

 _Why should I? I'm famous for something I can't remember and probably didn't even do._

Harry halted.

 _Hat, you've been around for quite some time, haven't you?_

" _Yes."_

 _So you probably know a lot too?_

" _I've spend a lot of time with the brightest minds of the Wizarding world."_

 _So what's your opinion on this? The whole Boy-Who-Lived situation?_

" _I have to agree. You're not responsible. It was most likely your mother."_

 _My mother?_

" _It's ancient magic, Harry. A life for a life. Your mother sacrificed her own life for yours. Her love for you and her will to protect you saved you on that day",_ explained Hat gently." _Back to the sorting."_

 _Is You-Know-Who still alive?_

Harry had to know.

" _I don't know. No magic can bring back the dead but if there are ways to cheat death he would have found them. Who knows the limits of magic?",_ mused Hat. " _And now be quiet! Do you know what happens to lads who ask too many questions?",_ grumbled Hat.

Harry grinned. _  
No, what?  
_ Silence. _  
"Damned if I know. Probably they get answers, and serve 'em right."_

Both started to laugh.

" _Well, it was nice talking to you, Harry. I hardly get the chance to chat nowadays since the current headmaster doesn't appreciate my input. Blasted Silencing charms!",_ swore Hat. " _I think you're going to enjoy your time here. Pay me a visit sometime, will you?"_

 _Sure thing._

" _I think I found the right house for you. You were quite a challenge but you will do well in –"_

"RAVENCLAW!"

* * *

" _Albert grunted. "Do you know what happens to lads who ask too many questions?"  
Mort thought for a moment.  
"No," he said eventually, "what?"  
There was silence.  
Then Albert straightened up and said, "Damned if I know. Probably they get answers, and serve 'em right."  
– Terry Pratchett, Mort _

" _Even if it's not your fault, it's your responsibility." – Terry Pratchett, A Hat Full of Sky_


	2. The Dare

" _Any true wizard, faced with a sign like 'Do not open this door. Really. We mean it. We're not kidding. Opening this door will mean the end of the universe,' would automatically open the door in order to see what all the fuss is about. This made signs rather a waste of time, but at least it meant that when you handed what was left of the wizard to his grieving relatives you could say, as they grasped the jar, 'We told him not to." – Terry Pratchett, The Last Continent_

It had been a long and exhausting day, and yet, sleep evaded Harry. He twisted and turned in his large four-poster bed but he was unable to calm down and fall asleep. His mind was wide awake, trying to process everything what had happened that day.

He was finally here. After years of self-study Harry would finally begin his formal education. He would study under great wizards and witches, experts in their field, learning all kinds of magic, and explore the magical world around him, its history and customs. He couldn't wait.

The excessive attention, however, which he received from most students, still bothered Harry. He really could do without it. Some students had gotten over their fascination with him rather quickly once they had realised he was nothing special and just another nervous first year. Angelina, Alicia and Danielle, for example, had taken him under their wing and the Weasley Twins already saw a promising prankster in him. Others, however, would need more time.

His fellow Ravenclaws, being a credit to their House, had pelted him with questions during the feast and while most of them hadn't pushed when Harry had refused to answer a personal question, others had thought they were entitled to answers and had become offended. Stephen Cornfoot, for example, one of Harry's new roommates, had practically demanded to see his scar. It was already bad enough that people gawked at him like he was an animal in the zoo but there was no need to be rude about it. Harry really hoped that the novelty of his presence would wear off soon.

There was also the curious incident of his scar hurting when he had looked up to the High Table and had made eye-contact with Professor Snape, Hogwarts' Potion Professor and Head of Slytherin House. Harry had no idea why it had happened but he had a bad feeling about this.

Another issue was the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. Harry didn't know what to make of this man. He was considered by many as the greatest wizard of modern times and after reading about his accomplishments Harry had been able to see why. He was also – judging by his opening speech and his warning to avoid the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side – rather eccentric, which supported Harry's theory that studying the deeper mysteries of magic drove people insane. All in all, Dumbledore appeared to be a wise albeit odd man, caring deeply for his students. However, Harry was still wary of him.

He could somehow understand Dumbledore's decision to place him with the Dursleys. They were his only family, after all. The real reason for Harry's suspicion were the articles which had been published about him in the last decade. According to the articles, Dumbledore had repeatedly assured the magical community that Harry was safe and happy, which, of course, wasn't exactly true. This meant that either Dumbledore hadn't bothered or had forgotten to check on him all those years and had just told them what they wanted to hear, or he knew about his life with the Dursleys and had lied. Both explanations didn't show Dumbledore in the most flattering light.

* * *

Harry had hardly slept that night but his excitement for the coming day made up for the lack of sleep. Their first class was Charms, taught by their Head of House Filius Flitwick. According to Prefect Robert Hilliard, Professor Flitwick was the best and most knowledgable Charms Master alive in the world as well as an accomplished duelist.

He began his class with explaining what a charm was and outlined the wide range of the subject. He emphasised the importance of concentration, precise wand movements and proper pronunciation of an incantation and ended the lesson with an anecdote about the wizard Baruffio who had said 's' instead of 'f' and had found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest.

* * *

Hogwarts was a maze. The castle had grown over centuries, expanded multiple times by several headmasters. It was even more difficult to navigate through it since magic was involved. There were stairs changing directions dependent on what day it was, rooms switching places every now and then and corridors connecting different floors. Harry and his classmates were almost late to Transfiguration because they had found themselves in an entirely different part of the castle after climbing up the wrong stairs. Fortunately, Professor McGonagall wasn't here yet. There was only a cat, sitting on her desk and observing the students quietly.

However, something was definitely wrong with the cat. Harry had never seen one sit so stiffly and he had a lot of experience with cats since the Dursleys had always left him with Mrs Figg when they had gone out to celebrate Dudley's birthday. He suddenly realised that the cat wasn't a cat but a human pretending very hard to be one. Harry should have know that his Transfiguration Professor was an animagus. Harry had always enjoyed the idea of turning into an animal and he had researched the topic extensively after his trip to Diagon Alley. He had been a little disappointed that witches and wizard were limited to one animal form though.

Harry smirked. He sat down and played the role of a model student whilst Professor McGonagall continued to observe.

* * *

The day he had entered the library in primary school for the first time had changed Harry's life. It had become a refuge. A quiet place where he had remained undisturbed. However, most importantly, the library had given his strange abilities a name and had introduced him to a world where dreams lived and hope still flourished. Harry couldn't help but reminisce when he entered the Hogwarts Library.

"Excuse me", said Harry, trying to get the attention of a tall, thin witch behind the counter. She had a long, hooked nose and kind of reminded him of a fairy tale witch. Minus the warts.

"I've never been to a magical library before, so I wanted to know if they are any special rules to follow besides the regular ones."

Madam Pince eyed him suspiciously, trying to predict how much of a nuisance Harry was going to be.

"If you rip, tear, shred, bend, fold, deface, disfigure, smear, smudge, throw, drop, or in any other manner damage, mistreat, or show lack of respect towards the books, the consequences will be as awful as it is within my power to make them."

"Anything else?", gulped Harry. "Any books that can...swallow me whole or mess with my mind?"

"Not in the public section."

* * *

Herbology took place outside the castle. Glass houses of various sizes stood along a small river which entered the Black Lake right beneath the North Tower. Gardening was one of two chores Harry actually didn't mind that much when he had lived with the Dursleys. There was just something about working with living things that made Harry content and happy.

Professor Sprout, their Herbology teacher and the Head of House Hufflepuff, seemed to feel the same way when she enthusiastically showed them all the plants which they were going to study this year. They would primarily focus on common potion ingredients like asphodel, dittany or wormwood before moving to more dangerous plants and discussing them theoretically.

* * *

"Ah, yes. Harry Potter. Our new – celebrity", said Professor Snape softly when he reached Harry's name during roll call. The amount of resentment in the man's voice surprised Harry. _This doesn't sound good. Not good at all._

Harry had heard about Hogwarts' Potions Master. Nobody in Ravenclaw disputed that he was a genius but he also had no patience for students who lacked the talent or passion for his subject.

In fact, he seemed to dislike all students, except for Slytherins, and especially despised Gryffindors, proving that the rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor was worse than Harry had initially suspected and even continued after school. Harry was glad that Hat had put him in Ravenclaw. He wanted no part in this.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making."

Professor Snape spoke in a low whisper, forcing everyone in class to listen attentively. Nobody dared to make a noise, let alone interrupt. The way Snape talked about simmering cauldrons and shimmering fumes was captivating.

"...even stopper death – if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Harry couldn't wait to start.

"Potter!", he called suddenly.

 _Crivens!_

Harry had completely forgotten that Professor Snape didn't seem to like him very much.

"What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"I don't know, sir", said Harry immediately. He had only skimmed the recipes.

"Tut tut – fame clearly isn't everything", sneered Professor Snape, causing a few Slytherins to chuckle. "Let's try again, Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"In the stomach of a goat, sir", answered Harry. He had seen a massive one in the apothecary in Diagon Alley.

"What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?", he asked after a short pause.

Harry thought hard. He could swear he had read about it the other night.

"I think there is no difference, sir?", said Harry hesitantly. "They are the same plant."

Professor Snape fixed Harry with an icy stare, his face was blank.

"One point from Ravenclaw, Potter", he said, towering over Harry. "I expect you to be better prepared next time."

Snape continued to single out Harry. He asked more questions, criticised the way Harry crushed snake fangs and even blamed him when Sally-Anne Perks, a Hufflepuff, managed to melt her cauldron. When the lesson was over Ravenclaw had lost another four points.

"Wow", exclaimed Padma Patil, sending Harry a side glance. "Snape really doesn't like you very much, Harry."

"But why?", wondered Harry, furrowing his brow. What had he done to inspire such hatred?

"Have you met him before?", asked Mandy Brocklehurst.

"I don't think so", answered Harry slowly. "At least...I don't remember meeting him. Are there any spells which can wipe someone's memory?"

"Of course", interfered Michael Corner. "How do you think the Ministry prevents the Muggles from finding out about us?"

"In that case I'm not sure anymore."

"He still hates you", piped up Lisa Turpin.

* * *

Harry had been in Hogwarts for four days now but the only non-teaching staff members he had seen were Professor Dumbledore, Madam Pince, Madam Pomfrey, Mr Filch and Hagrid. He hadn't seen any cooks, housekeepers or gardeners, which is why Harry was currently exploring the dungeons. The dungeons beneath the Great Hall, to be precise.

He was looking for the Kitchens, the best place to find out the newest gossip and rumours. Harry considered that magic was probably involved in cooking and cleaning the castle or that Hogwarts was cleaning and maintaining itself but he wasn't sure. He should ask the Weasley Twins. They would know.

* * *

Harry had been really looking forward to 'Defence Against the Dark Arts'. He had devoured Trimble's textbook, fascinated by the wide range of the subject. However, while the material was still interesting, the presentation by Professor Quirrel left a lot to be desired. His speech impediment made it difficult to follow his lecture.

The double lesson on Friday promised to be even more tiring. They continued to discuss the differences between jinxes, hexes and curses and the definition of 'Dark Magic' but Harry hardly listened and spent the entire lesson in a half awake state.

"This class is a joke", grumbled Michael once they had left the classroom. "His stutter is giving me a headache."

"You are absolutely right", agreed Anthony Goldstein. "We won't learn anything from him. That's for sure."

"Maybe we should make a study group", suggested Mandy.

Mandy's proposal was readily accepted by Harry's classmates and they made plans to meet up in the library later.

"What are you thinking, Harry?", asked Lisa, moving to his side.

"Mhmm", responded Harry drowsily. "Study group. Sounds good."

"Harry?", said Lisa, trying to get his attention. "What are you thinking about?"

"I'm sorry", apologised Harry sheepishly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "I...I just don't understand why Professor Quirrel switched, you know. He's clearly uncomfortable in his new job."

Harry had met him in Diagon Alley. However, back then his stutter hadn't been as bad as it was in class. The man was always on edge, terrified of his own subject.

"One of the older Ravenclaws said that he had been a decent Muggle Studies teacher before he took a year-long sabbatical. So why did he choose to take over Defence Against the Dark Arts?"

"Because teaching Muggle Studies is nothing you can take pride in", said an unfamiliar voice.

They had arrived at the Charms classroom. The Slytherins were already here.

A pale, blond boy came forward and introduced himself, "My name is Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Harry remembered him from the Start-of-Term Feast. Malfoy had been sorted as soon as Hat touched his head.

"I would introduce myself but unfortunately, everyone already knows who I am.", joked Harry, shaking the boy's offered hand. Malfoy laughed politely.

"So why is teaching Muggle Studies nothing to take pride in?", asked Harry curiously.

Hagrid had mentioned that some families valued their pure-blood heritage to such extent that they considered Muggles as inferior beings. However, it was the first time Harry experienced this kind of prejudice for himself.

Malfoy looked at him in confusion and said, "It's a waste of time since there's nothing we can learn from Muggles."

The way Malfoy said 'Muggles' oozed with prejudice.

Harry didn't want to antagonise the boy but he also wasn't going to take the comment lying down.

"You would be surprised what Muggles accomplished in the last decades. In some cases their technology even surpassed our magical methods", countered Harry.

"You aren't serious, are you?"

"I'm absolutely serious."

Malfoy gave Harry an appraising look but their conversation didn't continue since Professor Flitwick called them inside.

* * *

Hagrid invited Harry to tea after school. The giant lived near the Forbidden Forest, just outside the castle. His home was surprisingly small for a man of his size.

Harry really enjoyed having tea with Hagrid while they talked about his first week in Hogwarts. However, Hagrid's rock cakes were living up to their name. Harry was sure they tasted just fine but his inability to take a bite prevented him from actually tasting them.

Harry steeled himself and said, "Hagrid, I think there is something wrong with the cake."

Hagrid took a bite, chewed and mumbled, "Taste jus' fine ter me."

"They are a little too hard for my teeth", clarified Harry.

"What's wrong with yer teeth, Harry?"

 _You already started. Just say it!_

"Maybe your teeth are just stronger than mine", suggested Harry.

"Never had any complains before", said Hagrid thoughtfully.

 _What have I done?_

"You are stronger and bigger than the average man. It is possible the same thing can be said about your teeth," rambled Harry.

Harry really liked Hagrid. He didn't want to hurt his feelings.

"You know what", he said, trying to defuse the situation. "Next weekend we can try one of my recipes. It will be fun."

Hagrid beamed at him.

"Sounds good ter me."

* * *

Harry found the Weasley Twins by chance while exploring the castle on Sunday. The Twins were huddled together in an alcove, examining a piece of parchment.

"Look, George, our favourite Ravenclaw is here", called out Fred, tucking the parchment away.

"Out on a Sunday stroll, I assume", said George.

"Understandable. The weather is pretty marvellous."

"Except in Filch's office."

"The rain just won't stop."

"Good morning, guys", chuckled Harry. "I have a question."

"A question?", said Fred, wide-eyed. "No wonder Harry got sorted into Ravenclaw, George."

"He is bursting with questions, Fred", exclaimed George dramatically. "We've got to help him!"

"We will do our best to quench your thirst for knowledge, little eagle", said Fred solemnly.

"But we won't make promises."

"We aren't all-knowing."

"But close."

Before the Twins were able to go on, Harry said quickly, "I'm looking for the Kitchens."

Fred and George became utterly silent and eyed him calculatingly. They began to whisper into each other's ears but it didn't sound like a real conversation. They just mumbled nonsense.

"Why is little Harry interested in the Kitchens?", asked George finally.

The Twins began to circle around him and observed him through narrowed eyes.

"Someone has to cook and clean the castle but I have never seen any staff besides Filch", answered Harry, feeling like prey.

George urged him to go on, "And...?"

"If you want to know what's going on ask the cleaning and cooking staff. They know most of the gossip."

The Twins laughed.

"I fear the cleaning and cooking staff is a little bit different from what you might expect, Harry", explained Fred. "They love working."

"Even in their free time", added George.

"House-elves have free time?"

"You know what I mean."

"House-elves?", interjected Harry.

"Small magical creatures with bat-like ears."

"They serve old families. Or in this case, Hogwarts."

"Why have I never heard of them?", wondered Harry, shocked. "They weren't mentioned in any book. Not even in 'Hogwarts, A History'. How can someone forget about an entire magical race?"

They shrugged.

Harry loved to learn about different cultures. The realisation that a group of non-human beings lived and worked at Hogwarts made Harry even more eager to find the Kitchens.

"So where are the Kitchens?", he asked.

"What do you think, George? Should we tell him?"

"I don't know, Fred. It's valuable information."

Harry sighted, "What do you want? Money?"

Fred tapped his brother on the shoulder and they retreated back into the alcove. This time they actually talked and came back with broad grins.

"We have decided – ", they spoke in unison.

" – that only a kindred spirit – "

" – a first-class prankster – "

" – a mischief-maker – "

" – is worthy enough to gain such information."

"We've always wanted an apprentice."

"Someone who will take over our duties when we leave this fine establishment."

"You're quite promising."

"But we're not sure if you're already responsible enough to handle this information."

"The location of the Kitchens is a terrible burden", sighted George.

"So...you have to prove yourself", said Fred, grinning mischievously.

Harry didn't like where this was going.

"That's why we dare you to check out the third-floor corridor on the right side."

* * *

Draco Malfoy approached him again on Monday after History of Magic.

"Potter, may I have a word with you?"

Malfoy's demeanour was formal and determined. He had prepared himself for this conversation.

"Sure, Malfoy."

Flanked by his minions, Malfoy spoke confidently, "Since you were raised by Muggles you are going to need help with learning our ways. You also may have already realised that some wizarding families are much better than others. I'm offering my help so you won't make any mistakes." Malfoy smirked, eyeing the other Ravenclaws who followed their conversation with unconcealed interest. "Like making friends with the wrong sort."

For a moment Malfoy's gaze rested on Lisa Turpin before he looked expectantly at Harry.

"I really appreciate the offer, Malfoy", said Harry coldly. "But I am rather good at judging people myself."

Malfoy flushed slightly.

"You should be careful, Potter", he hissed. "If you continue to consort with Mudbloods and half-breeds it will rub off on you and you will end up just like your parents."

There were a few sharp intakes of breath around him. Malfoy had crossed a line.

"Again...thanks but no thanks", said Harry through gritted teeth.

He turned around and pushed past his classmates, trying to avoid a confrontation. However, Malfoy wasn't finished. All of a sudden, there was an unpleasant spark behind Harry. He stepped to the right. A yellow jinx barely missed him. Harry reacted instinctively. He tripped Malfoy, drew his wand and whirled around.

* * *

Harry looked around. The corridor was deserted. He was alone. Most students and teachers were in the Great Hall, enjoying their lunch. It was the perfect opportunity to do a little investigating. Harry took one last look around and placed his hands on the door. He could feel the magic inside – wild, unstructured. It wasn't charmed. Harry would have no trouble unlocking the entrance to the third-floor corridor. Trying to feel past the door, he closed his eyes and focused. However, no matter how hard he tried, the heavy door didn't reveal what was behind it.

"It's a school", Harry whispered to himself. "And the door isn't charmed. How dangerous can it be?"

 _First of all, it's a magical school. Anything could happen. And secondly, Dumbledore warned not to enter the corridor._

"Dumbledore has been an educator for decades. The warning was an open invitation. Surely, he knows children better than that."

 _I don't know. He is a bit mad. Another reason to heed his warning._

"Come on, Harry. Think of the Kitchens. And the house-elves", said Harry, gathering the courage to open the door. "There isn't even a sign."

 _Just a peek._

"Alohomora!"


	3. Lisa Turpin

" _When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives." – George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones_

Exploring the castle had quickly become Harry's favourite pastime. The place was huge, full of secrets begging Harry to discover them and he was more than happy to oblige. Seven years seemed like a rather short time to get to know Hogwarts.

Harry sometimes got the feeling of getting pulled into a certain direction. A low whisper at the edge of hearing urging him to go down a certain stair or open a certain door.

The Unlocking Charm proved to be essential during his many explorations, although there were some doors which were so eager to reveal the things behind them that they burst open by themselves as soon as Harry eyed them curiously.

He was just prodding a piece of wall which looked like it was hiding something when he heard the reverberating sound of footsteps.

"Harry, what are you doing here?", a familiar voice called out.

He turned round to face the approaching students. The wall seemed to relax under his fingers when his attention was turned somewhere else and gave the wall-equivalent of a sigh of relief.

Two girls were coming towards him. One was Parvati Patil, the twin sister of his fellow Ravenclaw Padma.

However, Harry couldn't recall the name of the other girl but he had seen her in Herbology and Transfiguration – classes Ravenclaw shared with Gryffindor.

"Just exploring the castle, Parvati", he answered.

She laughed, "Padma told me you are always roaming around. Have you found something interesting yet?"

Harry considered for a moment what he could tell her. He didn't plan to share the location of the Kitchens or the Come and Go Room anytime soon. This kind of information was far too valuable.

"There is an incredible fun slide in the West Tower from the fourth floor down to ground floor."

The slide had been installed at the request of Fytherley Undercliffe, the thirtieth Headmaster of Hogwarts. Harry had come upon his portrait a few weeks ago and struck up a conversation with the old wizard.

The portraits of Hogwarts were another amazing feature of the castle. Why most students hardly paid attention to them was beyond him. They knew the latest gossip, they could point you into the right direction when you were lost and – last but not least – their stories were much more interesting than Binns' lectures.

The lack of privacy in their presence still took some getting used to, especially since Harry couldn't shake the feeling that some portraits were following him around the castle.

"You are kidding me?", the girl beside Parvati blurted out.

Parvati chuckled, "Sorry, Harry. That's Lavender Brown", she introduced her companion.

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Harry Potter."

"I know", she said, flustered.

 _I know._ What Harry wouldn't give to meet one person who didn't know him.

Harry cleared his throat, "So...do you know where I am?"

"You got lost?", asked Parvati, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm not lost!", he denied quickly. "I know exactly where I am but I'm not sure where everything else is."

Parvati and Lavender began to giggle loudly.

This was unknown terrain for Harry.

* * *

"Seriously, Harry", said Padma. "How much time do you spend on studying Potions?"

"A lot", he answered curtly, not looking up from a heavy tome on Potions Theory.

He didn't have much choice. Snape hated him and had been relentless ever since their first Potion lesson. Harry got the feeling that if he wanted to pass the class he had to be twice as good as the other students.

"You have to practise brewing, Harry", advised Lisa. "Just reading about it will only help you so far."

"Sure", said Harry, his voice thick with sarcasm. "Snape will be happy to supervise my vain attempts to brew a decent potion."

"Stop it", chided Lisa. "You aren't that bad. Snape just has it in for you."

She dropped her voice to conspiratorial whisper, "You have to find a very private place to brew."

"Unsupervised brewing?", asked Harry in disbelief. "If Snape finds out I will spend months in detention."

"Come on, Harry", whined Lisa. "You're no fun. Rules are meant to be broken."

* * *

"I know you tripped Malfoy, Potter."

"We've been over this, Moon. I didn't trip Malfoy", said Harry yet again. "I had my back towards him, was a few feet away from him and my wand was in my pocket at that moment."

Harry had to give her credit. Lily Moon was persistent. The Slytherin had haunted him for days, trying to get him to admit that he tripped Malfoy wandlessly and on purpose.

Harry had perfected the trick in primary school. He might be fast enough to outrun Dudley and his gang but there was nothing wrong with having a head start.

"Someone else must have jinxed him", he added and continued walking down the secluded corridor.

"I was there, Potter", she said, hurrying after him. "I saw you move your hand right before he tripped over thin air."

"I twitched", said Harry through gritted teeth. His patience was running thin.

She overtook him and blocked his way.

"That wasn't a twitch. The hand movement was controlled", she said, staring at him defiantly. "Besides, nobody had drawn their wand when Malfoy tripped and fell face-first onto the floor. You were actually the first one. Amazing reflexes, by the way."

"Thanks, Moon", he said, pushing past her. "But I wasn't responsible for Malfoy's face-plant."

"Fine, keep your secrets", she called after him. "But I want a favour for keeping quiet about your special abilities."

Harry stopped dead in his tracks, "Favour? Special abilities?" He turned around to face her. "I don't have any special abilities, ergo I don't owe you a favour."

"But you have", she said in a sing-song voice.

Harry narrowed his eyes at her.

She sighted, "Look, Potter. We can help each other out. You were raised by Muggles. There is still a lot you need to learn about our world. Things, you don't find in books. I can help you there. And in exchange, you help me out. With information."

"What kind of information?", he said carefully.

They were both tired of this game.

"Don't worry, Potter. Nothing big", she reassured him. "You could share some information about the castle. I bet you came upon a few interesting and useful things while exploring."

"That's it?"

"You still owe me a favour", she said, smiling mischievously. "But there's no rush."

"I don't owe you a favour", he growled.

"Excellent", she said, ignoring his last remark. "Since we sorted out the issue I'm taking my leave. Can't wait. Bye."

* * *

Harry yawned and rubbed his eyes. The clock behind Madam Pince's desk showed half past seven. He carefully returned the library books, packed up his things and was just about to leave when he spotted a small mound of bushy hair sticking out behind a pile of books.

He cleared his throat, "Excuse me."

The mound rose and two brown eyes peeked over the edge of the book cover.

"Yes?", asked the girl, sounding rather peeved at the interruption.

"Half an hour until curfew", said Harry, pointing towards the clock. "You should prepare to leave."

Her eyes widened and the rest of her face appeared.

"I'm sorry. Thank you. I mean – I totally lost track of time", she rambled hastily.

Harry smiled, "Don't worry. It happens to me all the time."

 _Come on, Harry. Keep the conversation going._

"It's actually not very surprising. Time is rather unreliable in a magical library of this size. The amount of knowledge distorts space as well as time."

She looked at him with narrowed eyes, "I've never read something like this."

"It's actually only a theory of mine", he said, sitting down. "It was inspired by Terry Pratchett's Discworld novels."

"Fantasy books?", she asked incredulously. "The magic in them is completely made-up. Pure fiction. That's why they are called 'fantasy books'."

She leaned back, satisfied with her argument.

"I don't know", said Harry sceptically. "There are bound to be a few grains of truth in there."

"Maybe, but all in all they are pretty useless, unless you are looking for some light reading. The magic in there is not only fictional but also hardly explained, which, of course, is a good thing. I'm sure there are idiots out there who would try, unaware of how dangerous it could be."

Harry felt slightly insulted.

She tapped the book in front of her with one finger, "This is a book on real magic. It explains how you do it – including incantation and wand movement."

"But magic is more than that", countered Harry. "It's a living, breathing force. An art, fuelled by imagination."

She shook her head in frustration and started lecturing, "First of all, forget everything you 'learnt' from fantasy books. You need a solid foundation, free of lies and half-truths."

They missed curfew.

* * *

Harry was a bit of a loner. It wasn't entirely by choice, thanks to Dudley and his gang. They had made sure that the children in primary school had known better than to befriend the weird kid in baggy clothes and with broken glasses.

Those times were over now. Hogwarts was a whole new chapter in Harry's life. His relatives weren't around to make his life miserable and people didn't avoid him. Some even seemed to like him.

However, old habits died hard and Harry still spent most of his pastime on his own, exploring the castle and researching magic in the library.

After the hubbub surrounding Harry's return to the magical world had died down his classmates accepted that he was a very private person and let him be. Ravenclaw wasn't unknown for housing introverts.

He still studied and ate together with the other first year Ravenclaws but Harry's relationship with them didn't develop past friendly acquaintances.

Lisa Turpin, however, had different plans and tried very hard to coax Harry out of his shell. She involved him in conversations, asking for his opinion on a certain matter, and made sure he didn't miss group activities like study sessions or games nights.

Lisa was passionate about History. She had been really looking forward to study the history of the magical world and compare the magical to the Muggle version. However, she had been bitterly disappointed.

She loathed Binns' class and regularly complained about it. She just couldn't understand why such an important subject was criminally neglected.

Lisa was so thankful when Harry suggested to ask portraits to give her a few history lessons that she abruptly decided that he was going to be her best friend.

Harry didn't object. He rather liked the idea.

"Harry", whined Lisa loudly. "I'm hungry."

"It's your own fault. You shouldn't have skipped lunch."

"I'm starving, Harry. You have to help me", she whined even more loudly.

Harry chuckled and checked his pockets. He had started bringing snacks with him from the Kitchens since they sometimes skipped meals in order to study and Lisa could become a very unpleasant person when hungry.

He stopped and contemplated. Maybe it was time to share secrets.

Harry grinned, "Follow me!"

He led her down to the Dungeons.

Harry knew the way by heart. Ever since the Weasley Twins had told him how to access the Kitchens he spent a lot of time with the house-elves, learning about them. Grammy, an ancient elf, always had time to answer Harry's many questions, as long as he avoided asking about certain topics which house-elves couldn't discuss with outsiders.

She was also the one who had told him about the Come and Go Room, an amazing piece of magic. The elves didn't know who had created it although Grammy had hinted the possibility that there wasn't a creator at all.

Harry mainly used it as his private library and refuge.

Harry stopped in front of a painting of a bowl of fruit. He stood on his toes and tickled the pear. Lisa startled when it began to giggle and turned into a knob.

"Welcome to the Kitchens of Hogwarts!", he said solemnly.

* * *

It was rather easy to get lost in Hogwarts. The castle itself was nothing short of a maze, full of nook and crannies. Headmasters and -mistresses had added to and expanded the castle without any sense of order.

Hogwarts looked like it had grown rather than been built which wasn't very surprising considering that the castle was alive and had most likely contributed to its own expansions.

And to make things worse, nothing stayed at its place.

Stairs, rooms and corridors moved around the castle. There was even a small tower which moved from east to west during each day like a sunbathing cat.

In a few instances, there was a pattern in the movement. For example, stairs leading somewhere else on Fridays and rooms switching places each full moon.

However, most things seemed to move around randomly.

A prominent example was the Trophy Room which couldn't decide whether to stay at the third or the sixth floor, dragging along the bridge connecting it to the Armoury.

He had kept track of its movement for the past month but he hadn't found a pattern yet.

"Why is it so important to you to know?", asked Lisa on their way to the Great Hall.

"I don't know", he answered vaguely. "I just want to know."

She smirked, "Have you ever considered that it moves randomly just to annoy you?"

"She wouldn't do that", said Harry indignantly.

Hogwarts liked to challenge him. She gave him riddles to solve. However, she would never make fun of Harry.

He pondered, "Maybe I should start documenting weather and temperature. Just to be on the safe side, you know."

"I'm going to breakfast."

* * *

It was a small room with high ceilings, lit by two windows with iron grills. A workbench with cauldrons of several sizes and materials was standing on the left side of the room, the right side was occupied by huge shelves containing sealed glass and clay containers. Remnants of herbs, naked stalks, withered beyond use, were hanging from above.

"Harry", began Lisa, looking around the room with awe. "When I said you should find a private place to brew I didn't have a fully equipped potions lab in mind."

Harry beamed at her, "Me neither."

"How did you find it?", she said, examining the thick dust layer on the workbench.

"I think that the castle guided me here."

Lisa turned towards him, "You know how crazy this sounds?"

"We live in a crazy world", he remarked. "Come on, there's more to see."

Harry led her through an inconspicuous door between the shelves. The room behind it was the size of a broom cupboard and stuffed with books and loose parchment.

Lisa whistled in acknowledgment, "That's quite the find."

"It's more than that. It's a legacy", he said mysteriously, handing her a small book.

"A Short Introduction into Alchemy by Finus Potter", she read. "The lab belonged to one of your ancestors."

"He was one of Hogwarts' Potion Masters in the seventeenth century. He thought that brewing needed natural light and lots of fresh air. So he set up his own private lab. It looks like people either forgot or never knew about it."

"I still think an abandoned bathroom would have done it too", grumbled Lisa.

"You're just envious that none of your ancestors left you a secret potion lab along with their research", said Harry cheekily.

"You're going to share it?"

"Of course."

* * *

"Harry, stop obsessing with the Trophy Room. I don't want to be late for Transfiguration."

* * *

Introducing Lisa to Hagrid after telling her about the mysterious package of Vault seven hundred and thirteen was a bad idea.

"So, Hagrid", said Lisa non-nonchalantly. "Did you hear that someone broke into a vault at Gringotts?"

"O' course, was all over the paper, after all", answered Hagrid.

"And did you know that the involved vault was emptied the day of the break-in?"

"Yeah", he said, looking rather uncomfortable.

She continued, "How many vaults do you think are emptied each day at Gringotts?"

Hagrid began to sweat, "A few?"

Harry was fascinated at how small the giant man looked when facing a relentless Lisa Turpin.

* * *

Sharing his belief that the castle was alive with his classmates was another bad idea. They turned out to be rather narrow-minded.

"You are kidding me, right?", asked Michael.

"No, I'm completely serious."

His roommate looked at him like he had grown a second head.

"A castle is a pile of rocks. It can't be alive."

Harry could swear he heard a low, angry hiss.

"It's not alive in the same way as we are", Harry tried to explain. "It's alive in a different way."

"I have to agree with Corner", said Cornfoot. "Magic can do many things but it can't create life."

"What about the Sorting Hat?", asked Harry. "Do you remember how it talked to and interacted with you during the sorting? It read your mind, formed an opinion. It has its own personality."

"The Sorting Hat was created by four great wizards and witches. It's a very complex magical object but no more alive than the enchanted mirrors which tell you how you look", contributed Mandy.

"She is right, Potter", said Michael. "Nothing more than a very complex enchantment. This goes for both the hat and the castle."

Harry frowned. Was magic really that mundane to people who had grown up around it? Was it just a tool, governed and limited by rules?

To Harry, magic had always been a force with a mind of its own. Magic was not only part of him but it was also a companion, protecting and guiding him.

He believed that for the most part, magic was only limited by your own imagination.

There might be some limits to its power and more importantly, lines people just shouldn't cross but a living castle or hat definitely were within the bounds of the possible.

"Do you really think there is no way a building can develop its own personality?", asked Harry, looking around him. "That it can't feel or think?"

"The personality you think you see, Potter, is nothing more than faulty or deteriorating enchantments", said Cornfoot with a patronising tone. "Magic is limited and magic cannot create life", he said, emphasising the last part.

"You mean that magic cannot create life, defined by your understanding", countered Harry defiantly.

"What's the difference?", asked Rivers.

"There isn't one", interjected Anthony. "Living things grow, they change and reproduce. They have a metabolism."

"Alright, maybe she doesn't fulfil every criterion for biological life", conceded Harry. "But that doesn't mean she isn't alive in a certain way."

"She?", asked Padma.

"Hogwarts kinda feels like a she", admitted Harry.

"Hogwarts feels like a she?", said Cornfoot, laughing in disbelief. "Seriously, Potter, get your head checked."

* * *

"They are just jealous because they aren't on such good terms with the castle as you", said Lisa, trying to cheer him up.

* * *

Today was Halloween. Harry didn't know how he should feel about it. He had never known his parents, so there wasn't much to mourn.

On his worst days he had almost hated them for dying and leaving him with the Dursleys.

However, something had changed after his return to the magical world. They weren't just names anymore but actual people who had lived and influenced the world around them. They had left an impact.

They had been kind and brave, fighting against Voldemort and his followers, and they had both sacrificed their lives so he could live.

Still, how did you mourn people you had never known?

Harry felt that he should at least honour their sacrifice.

* * *

Harry heard of Ronald Weasley's outburst during Potions class. Apparently, Granger had tried to help him when he had failed to make his feather float. However, Weasley hadn't appreciated her help and insulted her behind her back. Unfortunately, she had still heard it and was now crying in the girls' bathroom.

Harry had to admit that her way of helping people, while well-intentioned, was rather irritating. Recently, she had started pointing out to Harry how foolish it was to give fantasy books any kind of credibility. She had even involved Professor McGonagall.

However, that was beside the point. Granger was still settling in, still trying to find her place. Harry was able to relate. He had a hard time adjusting to Hogwarts himself and had been often enough in a similar position during primary school.

Harry was lucky to have a friend like Lisa.

* * *

"Are you sure?", asked Lisa for the fourth time.

"I'm sure. Go to the feast. I'll be fine on my own", he reassured her once again.

Harry could need some time alone and he would never keep Lisa from attending the feast. Not with her appetite.

"I'll explore the castle", he went on. "Who knows? It's a special day. Maybe the veil between our world and the otherworld is thin enough to cross over."

"And leave me behind?", asked Lisa, pretending to be deeply insulted. "How dare you?"

Harry laughed, "It would certainly be an adventure, wouldn't it?"

"Just make sure to come and get me if you find the gateway to another world."

"Will do."

* * *

Harry was on the first floor, near the Charms corridor, when he felt a tingle down his spine.

However, it wasn't the kind of tingle people got when listening to good music. This kind of tingle was created by the last remnants of animal senses, telling you something was definitely not right.

The nauseating smell hit him shortly after.

Terrified but still hoping it was just one of the Twins' pranks, he looked around for its source but stopped dead in his tracks when he heard grunting and very heavy footsteps.

Moments later, the source came round the corner. It was twelve feet tall, had grey skin and was holding a huge club.

 _Belgium._

Since there wasn't really a choice between fight or flight, Harry tore open the door to his right, rushed inside and slammed it shut. He pulled his wand out of his pocket and took a deep breath to steady his nerves and focus.

"Colloportus! Colloportus! Colloportus!", Harry chanted over and over again. The door creaked when it sealed itself tightly.

"What are you doing here?", asked an irritated voice behind him. "This is the girls' toilet."

Harry whirled around and came face to face with an angry and teary-eyed Hermione Granger.

"Mountain troll!", wheezed Harry, just as the troll rattled at the door.

Granger blinked in confusion before the anger returned in full force.

She yelled, "Is this some kind of joke?"

The troll let out a loud roar, angry about being denied access to its next meal, and smashed its club against the door, leaving a dent. Granger shrieked.

"No joke, Granger", said Harry, his voice trembling. "Draw your wand! Now!", he shouted.

The club hit the door again. The wood groaned.

She frantically dug through her pockets and produced her wand.

Her hands were shaking in fear.

"What do we do now?", she asked, terrified.

Another crash. The wood splintered and the iron hinges cracked.

Harry was slowly losing his nerves. He wracked his brain, trying to come up with an idea but he drew a blank.

Granger's prattle didn't help either, "Mountain trolls are the biggest and most vicious among their species. They weigh over a ton."

The club slammed against the door and went through. Chips of wood hurtled through the air.

"We have no chance to defeat it", cried Granger.

"We don't have to defeat it", said Harry, keeping his eyes on the door. "We just have to keep it outside."

The door gave a sickening crunch when the troll tried to push it open but it failed and snarled angrily, attacking the door once gain with its club.

"Adhere!", shouted Harry with sudden inspiration.

The club got stuck. The troll pulled but it didn't budge.

"Granger, help me! Adhere!"

The troll roared in anger, tugging harder at its club.

Harry slowly approached the door which was slowly coming apart and peeked through the hole. The troll had lowered itself slightly, trying to free its club. Its mad eyes stared right into Harry's terrified ones.

Aiming for the troll's eyes, he cried, "Punctum!"

The spell hit its target. The troll howled in pain.

Harry seized the opportunity while the troll was distracted and pointed his wand at the club, "Glacius!"

A thick layer of ice formed on the surface of the club and spread within seconds over the entire door. Harry – in his panic – had lost control of his magic and it went haywire.

Startled, he skidded on the still spreading ice which now covered part of the wall and floor and fell down. The air surrounding him got so cold he could see his breath and he didn't know if he shivered with cold or fear.

When the troll blindly reached for its club it was unable to get a firm grip. Its massive hands slipped off the handle over and over again while its feet slithered across the icy floor. The troll become more and more furious until it finally snapped and began to pound at the door with its fists, roaring in anger and frustration. Centuries old mortar crumbled and stones grated against each other when the entire wall shook from its onslaught.

Harry was still sitting on the floor, petrified by fear and out of ideas. Well, he had one idea in mind. However, he seriously doubted that engaging the troll in a conversation on how to cook them until help arrived would work.

It was only a matter of time until the troll came bursting through the collection of broken pieces, held together by wood fibres and ice.

Suddenly several muffled shouts rang out and Harry could see colourful flashes of light through the sheet of ice. The troll bellowed one last time and fell to the floor, causing the whole room to tremble.

Harry let out a sigh of relief.

He got up shakily and turned towards Granger, "Are you alright?"

The girl gave no response. She was still staring with wide eyes at the patchwork door, seemingly unable to comprehend that it was all over. Harry had to admit that a speechless Granger was a rather nice change.

He began to chuckle at the thought which developed soon into full-fledged laughter.

They were alive. They had survived a troll attack by barricading themselves in a girls' bathroom. The situation seemed awfully funny all of a sudden.

His laughter woke Granger up from her dazed state, "What's so funny?"

"Miss Granger, Mr Potter, are you both alright?", called Professor McGonagall.

"It was a close call, Professor, but we're alright", he shouted back.

It took the teachers a while to force open the remnants of the door. After the rubble and the ice had been vanished the two students were finally able to leave the bathroom.

"Now", said Professor McGonagall forebodingly. "Would one of you kindly explain to us what exactly happened here?"

Harry gulped, "It was my fault, Professor. I was exploring the castle and ran into the troll. I took refuge in the nearest room and practically led the troll to Hermione", he explained quickly.

"And why did you explore the castle instead of attending the feast like the other students, Potter?", sneered Snape, fixing Harry with a cold stare.

It was just Harry's luck that the Potions Master had turned up half-way through the clearing work and was even more narky than usual.

"I didn't feel like celebrating", Harry answered evasively.

He dropped his gaze, unable to look Snape into the eyes. They were like black, bottomless pits and gave Harry the creeps. Staring at the toes of his shoes, he noticed that Snape's robes were ripped and torn up. He could see wet stains, shining in the torch light.

"You were up to something, Potter, and I demand to know what it is", hissed Snape.

"Severus!", warned Professor Flitwick, getting between him and Harry. His voice was as squeaky as ever but there was a harsh undertone.

"These two students just went through an ordeal. We should bring them back to their dorms. Thirty points to Gryffindor and Ravenclaw for your impressive wand work", announced Professor Flitwick and led Harry away.

With every last bit of fear and terror gone, the events' strain had finally caught up to him.

Harry was exhausted and trudged along his Head of House towards Ravenclaw Tower in a half-dazed state.

"Not many people could have held off a mountain troll by utilising only first and second year spells", said Professor Flitwick, breaking the silence. "You and Miss Granger used them quite creatively. Very impressive, indeed."

"Thank you, Professor."

"People often forget that victory always comes with a price", he continued haltingly. "What I mean to say is...I'm sorry for your loss, Mr Potter."

"Thank you. I really appreciate it, sir."

They fell back into silence for the rest of their way. When they reached the Ravenclaw Common room the bronze eagle knocker came to life and asked, "Voiceless it cries, Wingless flutters, Toothless bites, Mouthless mutters."

"The wind", Harry answered quickly. It was an easy one.

Harry found himself enveloped in a hug as soon as he had set foot into the Common room.

"I was so worried. Are you alright?", asked Lisa.


	4. Stories and Fairy Tales

" _Children are not deceived by fairy-tales; they are often and gravely deceived by school-stories. Adults are not deceived by science-fiction; they can be deceived by the stories in the women's magazines." – C. S. Lewis_

Lisa and Harry were sitting on the floor of their newfound, personal potions lab and digging through the notes of Finus Potter who had been one of Hogwarts' Potions Masters in the eighteenth century.

Harry's ancestor had left behind mountains of parchment scrolls and shelves full of journals, containing four decades' worth of research in Potions and Alchemy.

There was even personal correspondence with Nicolas Flamel.

And while the world's most famous alchemist didn't share the secret on how to create the Philosopher's Stone, he seemed more than happy to discuss other areas of Alchemy.

Harry was just reading about an alternate approach to the liquidization of coinage metals when Lisa suddenly asked, "What's the difference between Transmutation and Transfiguration?"

"Transmutation...", began Harry, furrowing his brow in thought, "...changes the very nature of things while Transfiguration only changes appearance, structure and composition. For example, a desk transfigured into a pig is still a desk, just trying very hard to be a pig. Its magic remains unchanged. That's actually the reason why undoing an transfiguration is easier than performing it. The transfigured object knows what it used to be and helps along the process."

Lisa hummed thoughtfully, "If the only thing which doesn't change is magic, does that mean that most people wouldn't be able to tell the difference?"

"To be honest, I'm not entirely sure", he admitted.

Harry had tried to find the unchanged part of a transfigured object but it lay rather deep and he had only caught glimpses so far.

"I don't believe that the majority of wizards and witches would know at first glance. They would have to look closer, deeper. McGonagall and Dumbledore, on the other hand, would be able to. I'm pretty sure of it."

"What about Muggles?"

"In the past, definitely not. Nowadays, however...", Harry trailed off. "With scientific progress and all...It's hard to tell. Maybe they would realise something is amiss."

"So, if I manage to transfigure something into gold, it would fool Muggles and Magicals alike, as long as they don't look too closely", she concluded, smiling mischievously.

"If you manage", he reminded her. "And it's a rather big if. Transfiguring anything into gold is immensely difficult. So difficult, in fact, that it hasn't been done in recent history. Not worth the trouble."

"Doesn't that mean that an object transfigured into gold is more worth than if it was made of real gold?"

"Huh", Harry exclaimed. "I think you're right."

* * *

Tensions between Gryffindor and Slytherin ran high as the first Quidditch match of the season approached.

These two Houses never got along but Quidditch made it a lot worse.

Even Professor McGonagall was affected.

Harry caught her glaring at Slytherin students, trying to identify those who might conspire against her team.

The relationship between Gryffindor and Slytherin had been strained ever since the legendary fight between their respective founders.

However, their history was only part of the problem.

They were simply too different, opposites in many ways.

To Gryffindors, self-preservation was just a fancy word for cowardice, and to Slytherins, acting bravely without any thought of one's own safety was not only reckless but also rather foolish.

Gryffindors strived to act honourably while Slytherins weren't above using underhanded methods to achieve their ambitions.

And while Slytherin had gained the reputation of being dark, Gryffindor was widely considered as the House of Heroes.

Harry really shouldn't have been surprised when his sorting into Ravenclaw had been met with raised eyebrows. Most of the Wizarding world had expected the Boy-Who-Lived to be sorted into Gryffindor, following in his parents' footsteps.

Harry was just glad he didn't have to deal with this stupid rivalry.

* * *

"Mr Potter, would you please stay after class?"

Harry tensed and looked up, glancing at the Transfiguration professor in confusion.

Was this about his homework?

He knew that he should possibly do more than the bare minimum but why spent extra time on homework when you could explore the castle instead?

Besides, it shouldn't be a problem as long as he understood the material.

His class participation was also somewhat lacking but he hated drawing attention to himself and staying unnoticed had always been the better option.

Or did she disapprove of him visiting the Sorting Hat?

No, he had been invited after all and Hat had seniority over the rest of the staff. It shouldn't be an issue.

Or did she find out about the incident in the dungeons beneath the Hospital Wing?

Unlikely.

There was no way anyone could know about that.

On his way to the teacher's desk, Harry gave Professor McGonagall another glance.

She looked neither angry nor frustrated, quite the contrary. Her usual stern features had softened a bit which confused him even more.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, "Mr Potter, I was informed that you know very little about your parents. And as you probably know, they were members of my House. So I knew them quite well", she said with a sad smile on her face. "Perhaps you would like to join me for tea and biscuits some time and listen to a few stories of their school days."

Harry was speechless. He hadn't expected something like that.

McGonagall took his silence as a yes, "Good. I expect you at four o'clock on Sunday. Don't be late, Mr Potter."

* * *

"So, Hagrid?", said Lisa in a casual manner. "Since you know so much about magical creatures I wonder if I can ask you a question."

Hagrid smiled, "Sure, Lisa. Always happy ter help."

"What do you know about giant, three-headed dogs?"

Hagrid's smile dropped in an instant.

He coughed, "Very interesting animals, Lisa."

"Does the hellhound guarding the third-floor corridor belong to you?"

Hagrid swallowed his tea the wrong way, spilling the rest of his cup on the table.

"Yeh shouldn' hang around there", he spluttered. "Fluffy's a little bit cranky these days. Doesn' like ter be cooped up."

"You called the beast Fluffy?", asked Lisa.

"Bought 'im off a Greek chappie. Lent 'im ter Dumbledore ter guard..."

Hagrid shut his mouth so quickly Harry could hear his teeth clank together.

"Yes?", probed Harry.

"Stop, yeh two!", said Hagrid hotly. "Now listen ter me! I've already said too much. Yeh forget Fluffy and yeh forget the vault. Yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. Leave it ter Dumbledore and Nicolas Flam..."

Lisa broke into a triumphant smile.

"I shouldn'ta said that", muttered Hagrid.

* * *

"Your father was one of the worst troublemakers I've ever had the dubious honour to teach."

"Worse than the Weasley Twins?", he asked.

Harry had been really looking forward to this meeting.

Hagrid had told him a lot about his parents but he had hardly known them before they had joined the fight against You-Know-Who.

McGonagall, however, had taught them and seen them grow up.

"I sincerely hope that they will never reach the same level of skill in causing chaos and mayhem as your father and his friends. However, I fear it's a fool's hope", answered McGonagall, sighing heavily. "They are already rather proficient at getting on my last nerve."

Harry hid his smile behind the tea cup and took a sip.

"What about my mother? Did she get into any trouble while at Hogwarts?"

"No, never. Your mother was a model pupil. She was a talented, diligent and responsible student. The obvious choice for the position of Prefect and later Head Girl."

"Then how did my father manage to become Head Boy?"

"To be honest, I have no idea, Mr Potter", she admitted. "He wouldn't have been my first choice for the position. Not after all the grey hair he had given me over the years. However, Headmaster Dumbledore was rather insistent on making James Head Boy. I asked him why of course but he just smiled and said he had his reasons", she said, shaking her head in fond exasperation. "Sometimes I think Albus believes himself to be some kind of matchmaker."

Her eyes widened briefly when she suddenly remembered to whom she was talking.

Embarrassed, she cleared her throat, "It didn't end in disaster though. Your father had calmed down considerably in the end, largely because of your mother's influence. They made a good team and a striking couple."

She put down her cup and looked directly into Harry's eyes.

"I'm sure I'm not the first one to tell you but you look remarkably like your father. Aside from your eyes. They are just like your mother's."

The comparison never failed to put a smile on Harry's face.

"They were both exceptionally talented students. Your father...he had a knack for Transfiguration. One of the best students I've ever taught. His skill increased by leaps and bounds over the years", she said with a hint of pride in her voice. "Your mother, on the other hand, was an excellent potioneer, one of Professor Slughorn's favourites. He was the Potions Master before Professor Snape as well as Head of Slytherin", she added after Harry sent her a questioning look. "But most importantly, they were uncommonly kind and brave people and you should be proud to call yourself their son."

* * *

"Did my father have any close friends aside from Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew?", asked Harry bluntly.

Just like Hagrid, Professor McGonagall avoided talking about his father's friends. She was, however, a lot better in skirting around the topic than Hagrid and Harry would never have noticed if he hadn't paid attention.

People hardly talked about the war. Most of them wanted to forget those dark days, maybe even pretend that they had never happened.

This hadn't been the case ten years ago.

The story of James Potter and Sirius Black had been on everybody's lips. The Daily Prophet and Rita Skeeter had made sure of it.

They had been inseparable friends during their time in Hogwarts. They both fought in the war, until one had died and the other had showed his true colours.

Sirius Black had turned traitor and killed thirteen people, including his former friend Peter Pettigrew who had confronted Black, trying to stop him.

The public had eaten it up.

Professor McGonagall stiffened and paled.

She gulped, "You know?"

"Books and newspapers", he stated calmly.

Her shoulders slumped and she closed her eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Mr Potter", she said sincerely. "You shouldn't learn those things from books. We should have sat you down and explained everything years ago. It was foolish to believe we could keep this knowledge from you."

She snorted quietly in amusement, "We should have known better. Your mother was very much the same. Relentless until she had all the answers."

She cleared her throat, resuming her professional behaviour.

"Remus Lupin", she stated. "He was another close friend of your father. I haven't seen him in years but if you manage to contact him I believe he will be more than happy to share stories of their shenanigans."

She gave him a warning look, "However, don't get any ideas, Mr Potter. I would appreciate it if you don't follow in your father's footsteps. And I trust Mr Lupin not to encourage you."

"He also knew your mother quite well", she added. "They were both Prefects and for a long time Mr Lupin was the only one of your father's little gang she could stand."

Harry raised an eyebrow, "My parents didn't get along?"

"Not at first. Your father was...", she hesitated. "Spoiled. He was your grandparents' miracle child. Fleamont and Euphemia had already given up hope of having children when your father was born. However, as I told you before, he grew up a lot in his last two years at Hogwarts."

"Did my mother had any close friends aside from Mr Lupin?"

McGonagall seemed conflicted for a moment before she answered, "I'm sorry, Mr Potter. I know of three people who were close friends with your mother. Two of them, Marlene McKinnon and Amy Griffith, died during the war and she had a big falling-out with the third one at the end of her fifth year."

* * *

 _Dear Mr Lupin,_

 _My name is Harry Potter._

 _Professor McGonagall informed me that you were a close friend of my parents, especially my father. She and Rubeus Hagrid already told me a lot about them but there are still gaps which I hope you may be able to fill._

 _Did they have a favourite food, class or place in Hogwarts?_

 _What about hobbies?_

 _Did they have nicknames?_

 _Any quirks?_

 _Desired careers?_

 _Did you and my father ever discover something amazing while exploring Hogwarts?_

 _What about your pranks? Something memorable?_

 _Professor McGonagall wouldn't tell me too much. I think she was afraid of giving me ideas._

 _I would be thankful for any kind of information you're willing to share._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Harry Potter_

* * *

 _Dear Mr Slughorn,_

 _My name is Harry Potter._

 _Professor McGonagall informed me that you knew my mother Lily Potter who was among your most favourite students._

 _I've been told several stories about my parents but most of them are about my father who was well known because of his outgoing nature._

 _I was hoping you would be willing to share a few anecdotes about my mother._

 _Many thanks in advance,_

 _Harry Potter_

* * *

"Things do not have true names", said Granger, rolling her eyes. "That's something Muggle fantasy authors made up. It doesn't exist in the real world."

Harry had gotten into another argument with Granger.

Ever since their first conversation, she had relentlessly tried to make him see sense, to make him stop believing in fairy tales.

She was like a bull terrier in that respect. She had chosen her target and objective and just wouldn't stop.

It had come to the point where Harry tried to avoid her as much as possible.

Unfortunately, she practically lived in the library and they were bound to meet from time to time.

"How do you know?", said Harry defiantly.

"None of the books I read mentioned anything like that", answered Granger, sounding rather pleased with her argument.

Harry smirked, "So you read every single book in the library?"

"No!", she exclaimed defensively. "But the concept would have come up by now."

"It is possible that the knowledge was lost", suggested Harry. "Just like the wisdom of Ancient Greece and Rome was lost during the Migration period."

"But Muggles still remember?", she asked patronisingly.

Harry shrugged, "Stranger things have happened."

She glared at him. Harry smiled

"The knowledge is also quite dangerous", he continued. "Imagine, having complete control over anything as long as you know its true name. Maybe it's the kind of knowledge which has to be guarded by an ancient, secret society."

"Don't be ridiculous", she huffed.

Harry chuckled and turned back to his homework, ending the argument.

* * *

 _Dear Harry,_

 _Your letter took me by surprise although in hindsight, it shouldn't have. It is only natural to look for information on your parents after they were taken from you at such a young age._

 _I taught both your parents._

 _Your father's skill in Potions was moderate, therefore, he didn't peak my interest. I knew him, of course. It was rather impossible not to. He and his friends caused too much trouble to miss._

 _Your mother, however, had an instinctual understanding of the art._

 _I could see it in the way she cut her roots, how she stirred and most importantly, how her eyes were more often on the potion than the potions book._

 _Everybody can brew by following instructions, Harry, but true masters pay them no mind and assess the potion by themselves._

 _Your mother was such a master._

 _It actually came to me as a great surprise that she was Muggle-born. She showed so much more talent than most of my Pure-blood students._

 _By the time of her fifth year, she was able to prepare a potion only with the aid of a list of ingredients, her eye and her nose._

 _However, there was more to your mother than her talent for Potions._

 _She was an incredibly charming and warmhearted person. People couldn't help but like her._

 _These qualities as well as her academic successes made her the obvious choice for the position of Prefect and contrary to most people, she took her position rather seriously. She not only showed the younger students around the castle but also tutored them. The batches of Gryffindor first years during her time as Prefect were the best I've ever had in Potions._

 _She also had a rather cheeky side._

 _Your mother's questions often tended to catch me off guard._

 _You see, experienced potioneers like myself are so used to discuss the most intricate topics that we have difficulties explaining the easiest ones._

 _Your mother knew this and I have my suspicions that she rather enjoyed seeing me falter in front of the class._

 _She would have done well in my House. I can't, however, deny that she was a true lion._

 _Your mother was a fierce and spirited young woman. She was also brave but lacked the usual arrogance and recklessness I've come to expect in Gryffindors, and while she respected authority, she wasn't easily cowed by titles and reputation._

 _I remember one time when I invited Arsenius Jigger, the author of 'Magical Drafts and Potions', to one of my little Christmas gatherings. I introduced her to him, they spoke and then she began pointing out mistakes in his publications._

 _The look on his face was divine._

 _I taught many bright witches and wizards in my years at Hogwarts but your mother will always hold a special place in my heart and it saddens me that you will never see for yourself what a remarkable person your mother was._

 _I included a few more anecdotes of your mother on the extra piece of parchment. I hope they will bring you closer to her._

 _Please, don't hesitate to write again._

 _Best wishes,_

 _Horace Slughorn_

* * *

In the middle of December, several feet of snow covered the castle and the grounds around it, inviting the students to spend the day outside.

In the end, however, only a handful of people braved the cold and ventured out.

The others were fools. It was simply amazing.

Playing in the snow was even more fun when magic was involved.

Padma, Lisa and Harry managed to successfully cast the Dancing Feet spell on several snowmen they had built and the Weasley Twins taught Harry how to enchant snowballs to follow around and attack people.

Unfortunately, the Twins chose Professor Quirrel to demonstrate the technique and all three of them got detention.

It wasn't that bad though.

At least, nobody ever found out who led the dancing snowmen into the Entrance Hall.

* * *

"Don't forget to write", reminded Lisa and hugged Harry hard.

"Every three days, I promise."

Lisa had offered him to spend Christmas at her home but Harry couldn't possibly impose.

He appreciated the gesture though. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine", Harry reassured her, prying himself from her grasp. "No classes, just exploring and personal research. It'll be the best Christmas ever."

Lisa smiled fondly at his enthusiasm, "Anything in particular planned?"

"I'll probably try to get inside another Common room while most students are gone", he said, grinning in anticipation. "I'll also try to explore more of the Dungeons. Who knows what's down there?"

"Try not to get lost. Again", she teased.

"Ha, ha. Very funny", deadpanned Harry. "It only happened once and the Bloody Baron was nice enough to show me the way back."

"Just be careful, alright?", said Lisa in a more serious tone. "This place isn't as safe as people claim."

"I promise", vowed Harry solemnly.

Lisa eyes him warily, "Are you sure about staying here? Mum won't mind."

"I'm sure", he reassured her. "Don't worry about me. The Weasley Twins are also staying and they'll keep an eye on me."

"Is that supposed to put my mind at ease?", she asked incredulously. "The Weasley Twins are even worse than you."

"They are not that bad."

"They flooded the History classroom last week."

"It was an accident."

Lisa snorted in disbelief, "Sure."

"No, seriously, it was an accident. They have no idea how they did it. ", chuckled Harry. "They've been trying ever since to do it again, failing at every attempt."

Lisa let out a sigh,"Fine, but keep me in the loop. And let me know when Binky returns. I'll sleep easier once she's back and keeps you in check."

"Do you really think I'll behave just because of her?", he huffed.

Lisa chuckled, "You would do anything to avoid her judging, unblinking stare."

Harry laughed but he felt a twinge of sadness.

He missed Binky.

She had been gone for weeks by now and Harry slowly got very worried.

He had initially planned to send Lupin's letter with a school owl since he had no idea where his parents' friend had disappeared to and how long it would take to contact him.

However, Binky had taken offence at being passed over and insisted to deliver the letter herself.

She clearly didn't trust another owl with such an important mission.

"Are you angry at him?", asked Lisa suddenly.

Harry frowned, "Who?"

"Lupin", she stated. "According to McGonagall, he was close to your parents and yet, he never visited. Never wrote."

"It would have been nice", admitted Harry. "But he had no obligations towards me."

"Some might say he had. He was their friend after all."

"Maybe."

* * *

 _Dear Harry,_

 _First of all, I have to apologise for taking so long to reply._

 _I'm not the easiest person to find and it must have taken your owl weeks to track me down. It was exhausted when it showed up at my home and needed several days of rest to regain its full strength._

 _I wrote this letter under its impatient glare, since it wouldn't leave without an answer._

 _Your owl is really one of a kind._

 _Your father was one of my best friends._

 _I was a rather shy boy and never had much contact with people of my age before coming to Hogwarts. Therefore, adjusting to school was hard._

 _Your father, on the other hand, was a lively child with a sense of adventure and an enormous mischievous streak._

 _He insisted on being my friend, dragging me along and getting me into trouble._

 _To be honest, I didn't appreciate it at first. I wanted him to leave me alone but he was persistent and eventually wore me down, proving himself to be a supportive and loyal friend._

 _Your father was there for me when no else was. He broke the roles and even put himself in danger to help me out and to make me feel like I was part of a pack._

 _He was incredibly stubborn and determined. When he set his eyes on a goal, nothing was able to stop him._

 _He didn't care for status or heritage, only judging people by their actions and decisions._

 _Your father was exceptionally gifted. He had a knack for Charms, Defence and especially Transfiguration but was hardly interested in Astronomy and History and had no patience for Potions and Herbology._

 _In the beginning, he hardly paid attention to his studies though, preferring flying and playing pranks over reading books._

 _Your father's skill on a broomstick was incredible and it didn't come as much of a surprise when he was made Chaser for the Gryffindor Quidditch team._

 _James loved Quidditch. His favourite team were the Wimbourne Wasps and he dreamed of playing for them._

 _He liked to laugh and his love for pranks partially originated from his desire to make others laugh._

 _I remember one time when we enchanted the entrance to the Great Hall so that everybody who entered got turned green._

 _Or the one time when we covered the fourth-floor corridor in ice and handed out skates._

 _I can understand why Professor McGonagall wouldn't tell you too much. We were troublemakers and caused her to go grey before her time._

 _Your father's attitude towards learning eventually changed and he put a lot more effort into his studies, partly because he wanted to impress your mother._

 _Your mother, however, was completely unimpressed by your father and considered him a nuisance. His habit of showing off didn't help in that matter._

 _He also loved to rile her up and had the uncanny ability to know exactly when she was going to lose her temper. And she had quite the temper._

 _Your mother and I hardly knew each other until we both were made Prefects in our fifth year, a position I only obtained because Professor McGonagall thought I would be able to reign in your father._

 _Needless to say, I failed utterly._

 _Lily was an uncommonly kind woman who always saw the best in people, especially then when those people couldn't see it themselves._

 _Your mother was filled with curiosity, seeing the world in your own special way. She never lost her sense of wonder, even after years of living in the magical world._

 _She was never afraid of standing up for herself or for others, fiercely protecting the people she loved._

 _People feared her sharp tongue and loved her witty charm._

 _You couldn't help but like her._

 _Lily had the patience and the attention to detail your father lacked which made her an excellent potioneer. She even considered becoming one after graduating from Hogwarts._

 _She loved the peace and quiet of the gardens above the Hospital Wing and of the secluded parapet walk below the Astronomy Tower._

 _While Lily was the obvious choice for Head Girl, your father being made Head Boy came as a major surprise. They made a good team though and eventually ended up dating after they had gotten to know each other better._

 _They fell in love and married a year after graduation. However, any future plans were disrupted by the war which had reached its height by then._

 _Your parents bravely stood against Lord Voldemort, his followers and their ideology, strongly disagreeing with their belief in pure-blood supremacy and their prejudice against other magical beings._

 _Your father supported the Ministry by fighting alongside it, your mother by researching._

 _She spent hours sitting on the floor, surrounded by heavy tomes and stacks of parchment, and researched obscure knowledge in order to help our cause._

 _The day you were born was the happiest of their life. They loved you, Harry. Never forget that._

 _Honour their sacrifice by living every moment of every day._

 _Explore the castle._

 _It still holds many secrets._

 _Make friends._

 _And you'll never be alone._

 _Treasure the little things in life._

 _Like lounging under the beech tree by the lake. It was our favourite place._

 _Have fun._

 _But don't neglect your studies._

 _And may your years at Hogwarts be filled with as much wonder and excitement as the years of your parents._

 _Merry Christmas,_

 _Remus Lupin_

 _P.S. Do you know that there is a forgotten study room with an amazing view on the Great lake in the West Tower? The entrance is behind the painting of the lake, directly underneath the Owlery. Password was Hermes._

* * *

Harry groaned in frustration. Instead of a secret room full of ancient knowledge, Harry had just found another one of Filch's hidden cleaning supply closets. Dozens of them were spread throughout the castle.

This particular one was only accessible by twisting the head of one of the stone snakes twined around the pillars in the corridor.

Harry had no idea why Hogwarts even needed a caretaker since most of the cleaning was done by house-elves.

He had seen Mr Filch mopping the floor once or twice but the rest of the time, the caretaker was patrolling the castle with his cat Mrs Norris or lurking in the shadows, trying to catch students breaking the rules.

* * *

Harry approached the librarian's desk with a smile,"Merry Christmas, Madam Pince."

"Merry Christmas, Mr Potter", she echoed. "Try not to spend the entire holidays inside the library."

"I'll try."

* * *

Christmas with the Dursleys had always been horrible.

His relatives used occasions like this to remind Harry that while he was living with them, he wasn't really part of the family – not that he wanted to.

Ever since he had turned six years old, he helped with the cooking, cleaning and decorating but once he was finished, he had no part in the festivities anymore and spent most of the time locked in the cupboard.

The worst part about Christmas, however, were the presents.

Harry wouldn't have minded getting nothing at all but the Dursleys were actually cruel enough to give him mock presents, things like a chipped cup or an old magazine – tokens of their appreciation.

Things had changed though.

When Harry woke up on Christmas morning, he was greeted by a pile of presents at the foot of his bed.

He couldn't believe his eyes.

Trembling with excitement, he reached for one parcel and picked it up, letting out a sigh of relief when it didn't turn out to be some cruel illusion.

It was wrapped in sparkling, green paper with a red ribbon on top.

Harry gently run his finger over the present, feeling the shape of a book under the paper, and inspected the attached card.

 _Wishing you a Christmas that's merry and bright!_

 _Lisa_

For a few moments, overwhelming happiness coursed through him. Then the guilt settled in.

Harry hadn't gotten a present for Lisa. He hadn't gotten presents for anyone.

Feeling uncomfortably warm all of a sudden, he threw back his blanket, jumped out of bed and began to pace around.

How could he have forgotten to get his friends presents?

Well, Harry knew the answer to that.

He had never had any friends until coming to Hogwarts. He had never had someone to give gifts to or to share sweets with. He had never had anything to give or share to begin with.

It had been still thoughtless of him.

Harry had to fix this.

He had just recently made friends. He couldn't lose them now.

However, would an apology and a belated gift set things right?

He could always ask the Weasley Twins to get him something from Hogsmeade.

However, what if they didn't forgive him?

Harry stopped pacing and took a deep breath, calming himself.

There was no use crying over spilt tea.

He would apologise and fix this situation.

Everything would be alright.

Harry's eyes wandered back to the pile of presents which still lay completely untouched on his bed.

It would be a shame to leave them unopened. He wouldn't want to appear ungrateful.

Lisa had gotten him 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard'.

Harry realised – to his shame – that he hadn't paid much mind to folklore and fairy tales of the Wizarding world. Something which he intended to rectify shortly.

Hagrid had sent him a roughly carved wooden flute. Binky was rather taken with its sound.

Moon had given him another book. 'Obscure Branches of Magic' sounded highly interesting and he couldn't wait to dive into its pages.

The content of the last package was obviously magical. Harry could feel it through the paper.

The magic was ancient. It was familiar.

He reached out further, feeling deeper, and almost dropped the package in shock when he felt the content reaching out to him in return.

It recognised him and greeted him like an old friend.

Harry couldn't contain himself anymore and ripped open the package.

A smooth, silvery-grey piece of cloth flowed out.

It was a cloak.

 _What do you do?_

The enclosed note didn't offer the answer. However, it explained why the cloak seemed to recognise him.

 _Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well._

 _A Very Merry Christmas to you_

Harry didn't recognise the handwriting but he could swear that he knew the trace of magic on the card from somewhere.

However, he couldn't put a name to it.

He carefully evaluated the cloak in his hands. The fabric was like nothing he had ever felt before. It was like a liquid, sliding through his fingers without any resistance.

Harry threw the cloak around his shoulders and looked down at himself, only to see nothing. His body had vanished.

Shocked, Harry let go of the cloak and stepped away from the inconspicuously looking magical object with the power of making its wearer invisible.

Harry narrowed his eyes at the silver puddle on the floor and examined it once again.

It didn't seem like an object of great power.

It didn't feel malicious either.

Maybe he should take the risk.

Exploring Hogwarts would be so much easier.

* * *

Harry spent the rest of the day reading in front of an open fire.

After reading 'The Tale of the Three Brothers' he wondered where the grains of truth lay in this story.


End file.
